


Emerald Legacy

by Dannell Lites Archivist (offpanel_archivist)



Category: Legion of Super Heroes
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-05-04
Updated: 2001-05-04
Packaged: 2017-11-19 22:39:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/offpanel_archivist/pseuds/Dannell%20Lites%20Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: An expansion of the AU in moi's story "And All Of Us Are Dying" where Valor, Lar Gand, becomes a member of the Green Lantern Corps!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emerald Legacy

**Author's Note:**

> Ah don't own any of the folks heah:):) DC comics does! No infringement of copyrights is intended! So don't sue moi!
> 
> Rated G for absolute purity of content!
> 
> This little fic is an expansion of the AU in moi's story "And All Of Us Are Dying" where Valor, Lar Gand, becomes a member of the Green Lantern Corps! Ah hope ya'll enjoy!
> 
> ___
> 
> This story is archived on behalf of Dannell Lites, who passed away in 2002, with the permission of her family.

  


## Emerald Legacy

### by Dannell Lites

 

 

The Green Lantern of Sector 1015 brought himself up short, the emerald energy trail wafting in his bright wake glowing and sparkling. Blinking rapidly, Valor frowned, studying the sight before him. After a moment his frown gave way to an infectious grin and even laughter singing musically in the depths of space. Great Cosmos! Just _look_  at the improbable thing! Darting quickly planetward, the immense golden spacecraft shimmered and glinted in the reflected golden light of M'Aripoah, putting the shining stars themselves to shame.

'Jor-El, my departed friend, forgive me?' he pleaded, still smiling. He couldn't help himself. Such a stark reminder of "Jor-El's Golden Folly" was hard to resist. The huge spaceship in his memory, crafted and designed by Jor-El of lamented Krypton, was made of purest gold; a very common element on heavy gravity Krypton and one of the lightest of metals there. Instantly dubbed "Jor-El's Golden Folly", when the ship crashed on the nearby moon and set back Kryptonian space travel efforts by a generation the laughter of the young scientist's jealous colleagues abounded.

Peering out with his microscopic vision, Valor was astounded to discover that this craft was also made of almost pure gold with only enough vanadium to strengthen the superstructure. Blazing forth like a warm and verdant living star, Valor gave chase. How was it possible, he wondered, to manufacture such a pure form of any element? Even given the vacuum of space to act as a purifier... His engineer's mind wrestled with the problem even as his lips set themselves in a thin line of unease.

There might very well be more to this increasingly irritable gang of ore pirates than first met the eye, he decided as he sped forward. Rumors had reached him some time ago of their depredations. Uncannily successful and powerful, they left much death and destruction in their wake if the tales were to be believed. But still he had stayed his hand. Ch'p, the Green Lantern of his neighboring sector, 1014, was not keen on the idea of help. The bushy tailed, squirrel like H'lvenites were notoriously territorial. And so Valor had bowed to the small, proud being's decision to handle the situation alone. He smiled a bit ferally. But now the pirates had made a fatal mistake.  _This_  was Sector 1015.  _His_  Sector, and he need no longer simply sit and writhe against the bonds of brotherhood and courtesy restraining him.

He considered for a moment the display of so much gold in the gigantic vessel and wondered grimly if this might, perhaps, presage the presence of heavy worlders like himself. It was very possible, he knew. As a general rule it was only upon high gravity worlds such as Daxam and Krypton that gold could be found in common enough quantities to be so wastefully used in spacecraft construction. Upon most worlds it was a rare and treasured metal; both for its inherent beauty and for its scarcity, by whatever name it was locally known.

His extensive knowledge of spacecraft design stood him in good stead, now. This seemed to be a variation on the new, somewhat uncommon, SL-5000 Corellian design. The shipyards and engineering feats of the small, heavily industrialized world lazing under the Spican suns were legendary. One day he planned to spend a great deal of time there, studying. But that was far in the future. Now he had these pirates to deal with. If he was correct that would place the engine room about midship, just abaft the storage facilities. He was almost smug when his telescopic vision confirmed it.

Rising and extending his right hand, he bathed the ship in brilliant emerald energy. Slowly the great vessel ground to a halt, the engines disabled by the tachyon shower of his beam. With a grin he materialized a giant green can opener and began cutting his way into the ship. Being careful, of course, to throw up an emerald force field to maintain the craft's atmospheric integrity. He chuckled at his can opener as it pried its way into the huge ship. Handy things, earth gadgets. Terrans had a genius for designing useful little things like this. He'd learned quite a bit from his short stay on that busy, teeming world.

Streaking forward, he slipped noiselessly through the shield he'd hastily erected to plug the now gaping hole in the vessel's pristine sides. 'Almost a shame,' he thought, 'to mar something that lovely.' Behind him, he spared a thought to restore the gleaming golden sides of the ship to their former glory.

At superspeed he dodged a laser beam aimed in his direction. Several of the two dozen or so crewmen spread out before him in the large room were still struggling their frantic way into the safety of space suits. Caught totally unprepared by the sudden, unexpected advent of null gravity, they bounced and careened wildly off the bulkheads, shouting and cursing. But some few of them were a bit more alert, he noted. His personal force shield, fueled by his considerable will, sparked in luminescent protest when a score of needle particles loosed from well aimed needleguns ricocheted off the glowing, verdant screen. Swiftly summoning from his imagination a dart board, he gathered the errant, deadly projectiles and, with a thought, sent them flying in that direction. When they all struck their target dead center he raised his arms in triumph.

"Bullseye!" he cried.

He'd always been good at that game. Taking all those lessons, cunningly disguised as games, in hand to eye coordination from Roy "Arsenal" Harper turned out to have unexpected benefits.

Another laser beam disrupted his pleasant reverie, this one absorbed by his shield. The heat of the scorching beam was released both inward and outward at once. But since he was invulnerable, he hardly noticed the frightful temperatures that might have fried any other being to a crisp.

More angry with himself for allowing such a possibly fatal distraction than at his foes, he growled, "You guys like lasers, huh? Have some, then!"

With pinpoint accuracy, he swept the room with his laservision, melting every obvious weapon in sight. Many loud cries of pain accompanied the haste with which the blazing hot laser rifles and needleguns were instinctively discarded.

Time to bring this show to a screeching halt, he decided. Materializing a giant green broom he quite literally swept the now unarmed pirates into glowing green cages much as a housewife sweeps unwanted and unwelcome dust and debris out the back door. When the cages were full he sealed them shut and stood back for a moment to catch his breath.

Applause, slow and measured, rang in his sensitive ears, echoing through the large room, rolling ominously off the bulkheads like thunder on a blustery day.

"Oh very good!" came a low voice, deep and resonant with amusement. "I'm almost impressed. Why, you're even better than I'd heard. Excellent! I  _do_  love a challenge!"

Valor sighed. Daxam's Moons. Not another galaxy conquering egomaniac. Anything but that.

"And you would be?" he inquired politely.

The trim man's silver-white hair sparkled for a moment in the low light as he waved one hand in causal dismissal. "My name is Dagon Arrah," he returned in a pleasant tone. "My followers," he frowned and sighed in regret, casting a jaundiced eye upon the captured crewmen struggling in their verdant prisons, "such as they are...are pleased to call me Dagon-Ra." He smiled, a splendid show of straight white teeth. "Oh, don't trouble yourself," he urged the young hero, "you'll not have heard of me. Yet. But you will, boy. You will."

"That's good," Valor observed caustically. "Glad to hear it."

From his ring sprang a pair of large emerald hued hands, fingers extended, grasping for his opponent. With the speed of thought it seemed the gaudily garbed white haired man was encased in metal, its dull blue sheen betraying its origins. Inertron. Hardest substance in the known Universe. Valor blinked. What in the name of the Cosmic All - ?

Grasping the receptacle with both hands, the Daxamite Green Lantern lifted it like a feather and shook it gently. There.  _That_  ought to bounce around and disorient the mysterious being inside. From his odd accent Interlac was not his native tongue and the youthful hero had certainly never seen clothing quite like that before. He wondered -

"Damn you, that  _hurt_!" cried the angry voice from within, audible to his sensitive ears. "I don't like pain, little Daxamite boy! Let's see how well  _you_  like it, shall we?"

Molten agony exploded, white hot and searing, flowing through his body with every beat of his heart. When he bit his tongue to keep from screaming and tasted the salty metal of blood on his lips he discovered his invulnerability had fled. He crashed to the floor, writhing and gasping for breath that would not come. Pain filled the world and overflowed.

His blurry, fading vision brought him the sight of the inertron sphere dissipating like an errant breeze. His nose twitched to the blessed scent of oxygen that wafted past him like a brief benediction and then was gone. "Don't much care for pain, do you?" Dagon-Ra asked, gloating a bit now. "Not used to it, are you? Comes of being invulnerable, I suspect. Frankly, I can't begin to imagine what it must be like for a Daxamite to have his blood turned to molten lead." He regarded the suffering hero dispassionately for a moment. "Pity, really. Are you sure you won't join me?"

Valor didn't bother to answer. Not that he had breath for that in any case. Dagon-Ra sighed in what might very well have been genuine regret.

"Just as well, I suppose. I'd be a fool to believe you if you said yes in any case, wouldn't I? And I am anything but a fool, I assure you." Valor's eyes were closed so he missed the small predatory smile that tippled the corner of the pirate master's thin lips. "Haven't you guessed yet what I am, little Daxamite? No? Then I'll tell you. Trom is a lovely place, really. Paradise, you might say." His yawn was deep and abiding. "And one of the most frightfully  _boring_  places in the entire Universe."

He had to be lying, Valor told himself. He had to be. Trom was a myth. A galactic legend. A dream of sylvan perfection filled with beautiful people gifted with incredible power. It wasn't real.

Was it?

His body answered the question for him. He was dying. He could feel it, cell deep where there was no denial or salvation. His body knew the truth. The blood coursing through his veins was poison to him now; death.

Dagon-Ra read his thoughts on his face. "That's right, boy. The elements themselves are mine to command, to wield and shape and form as I see fit. You are undoubtedly one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy. Such a shame that you had to encounter one the few  _more_  powerful ones."

In the next instant, Dagon-Ra stepped back, out of range of the softly glowing emerald radiance that enveloped the youthful Green Lantern. Like a lover it caressed him and the pain began to ebb, retreat like an ocean tide. The voice that spoke to him from the ring was soft and warmly feminine.

*Wielder 1015 in considerable physical distress. Discorporation eminent. Initiate bio-restoration. Protect.*

Within moments he staggered to his feet, gazing about for Dagon-Ra. But the self-proclaimed Trommite was nowhere to be seen. He had fled. Valor was in the process of searching the ship using the power of the ring the Guardians had gifted him with when he was interrupted with the blare of klaxons and a harsh voice spilling from the giant vessel's comsystem.

"Self destruct engaged. Ten seconds and counting...nine...eight..."

In his weakened state he barely had time to gather the imprisoned pirates and flee the huge golden vessel before it exploded in a great display of spectacular pyrotechnics. He watched in awe as the shock wave spread itself on the cosmic winds between the stars.

'Well,' came the ironic thought, 'now I guess I know where all that pure gold came from, don't I?'

Using his ring he signaled the nearest authorities to come and collect his prisoners. Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw it. The tiny escape craft flashed past the periphery of his not yet fully restored vision on its hurried way to the embrace and safety of the anonymous stars.

Setting his teeth, he gave chase. Stretching himself, ignoring the strain, he outdistanced the small craft and found himself a convenient asteroid to stand upon. From his ring and the force of his will sprang a humongous emerald green catcher's mitt. Expertly, like a pitcher shagging an infield fly ball, he caught the speeding ship and held it fast.

"Swing batta, swing batta!" he crowed in triumph. Another Terran game he remembered with fondness. He definitely felt like celebrating. But first things first.

"Ring!"

*Command mode initiated. Waiting.*

"Render ship's occupant unconscious. Now!"

*Done. Awaiting further instruction.*

The young Galactic Guardian blinked, at a sudden loss. Now that he had him, what  _was_  he going to do with the Trommite pirate leader? Turning him over to the local authorities seemed pointless. Escape would be less than child's play for the transmuter. The science cells on Oa seemed to be the only -

The feral grin that blossomed it's slow way across his smooth face was born of equal parts inspiration and anger. Perhaps there was another solution, after all. A much more elegant and fitting one.

"Ring?" he requested.

*Waiting.*

"Run a psi-scan on the unconscious ship's occupant. Reference location of the planet Trom."

Seconds ticked away.

*Done.*

Dagon-Ra or Dagon Arrah, whichever it pleased him to be, was going home. It stood to reason that his own people would be best prepared to deal with him. Valor chuckled. Not to mention the fact that it would afford him the opportunity to investigate this wondrous new place, the not so mythical planet of Trom.

Which is exactly what he did.

Soon the word spread, of course, of the defeat of Dagon-Ra the Cruel... Dagon-Ra the Mighty... Dagon-Ra the Invincible. The galaxy itself seemed to breath a great sigh of relief. When the news reached Oa he was summoned home and honored for the first time.

But not the last.

The Legend of Valor of The Green Lantern Corps was born.

The End


End file.
